Correspondence
by Tofu Platter
Summary: Letters written, never sent… But now, very much acknowledged. AU, Fuji. Atobe, Ryoma, Tezuka
1. Prologue :: Fuji to Tezuka

Correspondence  
By: Maria-chan  
A/n: Letters written, never sent… But very much acknowledged.  
(AU, Fuji. Atobe, Ryoma, Tezuka)

Prologue

_Dear Kunimitsu_

Once again, I take to my brush and ink. For once, maybe I won't be troubling you with my problems. Ryoma is doing well, you'd be proud of him.

The weather has been surprisingly wonderful lately, or as co-operative as it could be in winter. It has been snowing ceaselessly for the past week, but it's been gentle and a pleasure to watch. The result it has on the landscape is also wonderful. Everything is covered with a layer of white that makes everything shine. I cannot seem to stop taking photographs.

It's in times like this, where I have so much to say, that I reconsider my preference of brush to pen, but I find it more comfortable. The ink, though, seems to be rather difficult to handle in cold weather. Ryoma says that I own a camera and watch tv and use the computer, so what difference would using a pen make?

I tell him that sometimes, there's a need to preserve a bit of the past.

He simply scoffs, but I know that he understands. Just the other day, he stumbled upon my old photographs, but he didn't say anything, just looked at me and mentioned how I didn't seem to age over dinner. I think he knows.

The snow reminds me of a lot of other things as well. Like your precious mountains; the snow-covered Matterhorn that you always had a picture of. It reminds me of childhood times, and of times where I was growing up, and of course, the time where you brought me to Germany. It was a week that I would never forget, not even a single detail. I can still remember the shade of red the hotel attendants wore; can you believe that?

I feel so… free. Not free, but perhaps less restricted. Just the other day, Ryoma actually agreed to participate in a tea ceremony. Afterwards, we had a talk, and I remember telling him about how people so easily saw things as "black" and "white" and how people obsessed over perfection… In a highly perfect world.

Do you remember that speech you gave me? I regret not being to remember it exactly as you said it. Times like those- more often than not- I wish that I could somehow hear your voice again. But I know you lead a different life now, most likely with wife and children of your own.

It's selfish of me, but I can't help but wish that you could come back to Japan. To see me at least one more time. If not, at least let me catch a glimpse of you .I wonder, sometimes, if you look different from the last time I saw you. For all I know, you could actually be in Japan, and this letter is addressed to a non-existent residence.

It doesn't matter.

I'll keep my silence.

Forever and More,  
Fuji Syuusuke  
January 24th 2000

Frowning, tired hands looked at the envelope the letter arrived in, one more time. The stamp clearly said June 15, 2005; there was no mistake in the postal service, this was no delayed letter. But… the recipient, the address, the letter…

Somehow, he felt that this letter needed a reply and some clarifications.

It had opened up a lot of closed rooms in his memories, and created new ones for this mystery to occupy. How did this Fuji know Kunimitsu, and refer to him in such a familiar manner? Somehow, he felt as if it wasn't meant to be sent… And definitely not meant for other eyes to see.

Turning to his desk, a new letter was written, to be sent off and received within the next week.

Neither writer knew what was slowly beginning; the start of what could be an end to plenty of things.

Tbc.


	2. Chapter 1 :: Atobe to Fuji

Correspondence

By: Maria-chan

A/n: Letters written, never sent… But very much acknowledged.

(AU, Fuji. Atobe, Ryoma, Tezuka)

Chapter 1

It was early in the day, just an hour or so after breakfast, the typical time for housewives to recuperate whilst their husbands ploughed their way through traffic off to work, and their children made a wild dash for the school gates. A time of blessed silence in the home, a comfortable silence while hassled women caught their breaths and reflected upon their schedule for the day.

Fuji was in the garden, cutting some flowers to use for an ikebana session he'd been looking forward to, when out of the blue, he found himself sitting in his room and staring blankly (and admittedly, somewhat apprehensively) at a recently received envelope, presented to him by one of the maids.

The chrysanthemums lay forgotten in a basket, left along the hallway for the cleaning lady.

He had every right to be apprehensive: the return address on the envelope was achingly familiar, the very same one he had written at least a hundred times. Simply to check, to assure himself that he wasn't hallucinating, unusually rushed movements brought a traditional writing-box out of his escritoire's bottom drawer, one he took pains to keep plain and unnoticeable.

The moment he opened the box, and stared at the topmost envelope's address, Fuji's eyes widened and he let out a whooshing breath.

He couldn't believe it.

Staring in trepidation at the source of his distress, he contemplated its fate. He could just leave it… It would, undoubtedly, be the easiest way out; the address itself didn't specify the sender's name. He could simply pretend it didn't exist, and get on with his life.

Pretend that Tezuka didn't exist? He scoffed at his own idea.

Instead, he took a deep breath and picked himself up from the floor, smoothing his kimono and reaching out for the clean envelope, still warm from spending it's time on the sun-warmed wood of the corridor, where he'd spent at least half and hour contemplating.

He sat himself properly on the veranda's warmed wood, and opened the flap with pale hands, noticing the trembling and doing his best to will it away. The moment he unfolded the papers, though, any hesitance disappeared as he took in every character greedily.

-x-

Ryoma wasn't stupid. He normally could care less about others, and couldn't about his co-workers, but looking at the absence of a smile on Fuji's lips, and the way his (What, mentor? Friend? Parental-substitute? …Lover? –He decided to continue the thought and peruse that long-disputed term aside) pecked on his food, barely even consuming half his rice bowl, he cleared his throat to signify the start of a conversation and set his chopsticks down.

"What's wrong, Syuusuke?" He asked, taking a drink before making eye contact.

…Or at least trying to.

Syuusuke hadn't looked up from whatever he found so interesting with the half-eaten meal, and was now wearing a wholly transparent half-smile that pulled at his stomach, now knotted in worry.

Ryoma was aware when there was something troubling Syuusuke, despite the older man's infallible smile and generally poised disposition. It may be little nuances in behaviour, or his habit of not speaking when disturbed; generally, very subtle differences that he managed to catch.

But if it was this obvious, he had every right to be worried.

"-It's really nothing, I'll just excuse myself now. I apologize for wasting the food." Syuusuke had finally looked up, smiling with an undercurrent of something Ryoma couldn't place, and stood up from the table, very much the figure of perfect etiquette.

He watched as the slim man (made to look even slimmer in the kimono he wore) opened the door and stepped out. Before closing the shoji, however, he called out a faint "See you in the morning" over his shoulder, almost as an afterthought.

Ryoma sat there for a good while, before turning to the remnants of his (cold) dinner, and finally leaving the dining room himself.

Fuji had no idea what to make of the situation. Totally nothing. He was stuck in between the letter, the fact that one of his own letters had been sent (and received) and the news that he had just gotten.

In the end, he simply sat on the tatami floor, leaning against the shoji that opened out into the garden, staring at _something_ seeing as if he closed his eyes, he was sure, so sure, that he would feel everything so much more accurately, and tears would fall.

Which led to him wondering why he wouldn't let the tears fall.

It was, after all, natural to cry when you were mourning, was it not?

He laughed, a sound so devoid of humour and so dry, he thought his voice would crack. It was an ugly sound, loud enough so that Ryoma, behind the door, heard it and hesitated before knocking on the frame, and entering.

He froze as he found himself pinned by a pair of blue eyes, startlingly bright against the dim light from outside, and in the shadowy confines of the room. Then he noticed how those eyes stared past him, not seeing him, not seeing anything. Syuusuke was somewhere else right then.

"Syuusuke?" He knelt beside the pale man, raising a hand to cup his cheek, just to force the man to look at him, to focus on something- dammit, he was _frightened_. His skin was cool to the touch, and slight shivers shook the already slight frame.

Ryoma frowned, and shook Fuji a bit. "Syuusuke!"

It didn't surprise Ryoma when those blue eyes closed, and Fuji slumped down on his shoulder. What surprised him was the presence of that smile, despite the tears that rolled down pale cheeks.

-x-

Ryoma looked down upon the pale, tear-stained face that lay facing the garden, on his lap. It troubled him that Fuji was so distressed, and the fact that he didn't know what to do to deal with the situation.

_"Ryoma, Kunimitsu's gone, he's gone, and I—"_

He frowned at the memory and bit his lip, looking down resolutely and tracing fine-boned features with his free hand's fingers. Fuji clung to the other one with a death grip, and wouldn't let go, even in his sleep.

He couldn't replace Tezuka, and he knew it. After all, he was the one who helped bring Ryoma where he was now… But with Syuusuke on the line, and Tezuka gone… He couldn't simply stand by the sidelines. Even if he was just being used now, he trusted that things would change later. He would make things change.

-x-

_Dear Fuji-san _

_I was not completely sure of how to react to this surprise that came with today's morning mail. So here I am, writing to you in a completely informal manner, wishing that I wouldn't cause anything horrible to happen. I warn you now, that unless you have kept up with recent affairs, that this may be upsetting. _

_But reading your letter, I doubt that you know that Kunimitsu is _(several ink stains marked trouble here) _not with us anymore, at least, not physically. _

_He_ (again, several blotches here, and shaky lines for the subsequent characters)_ died two years ago, doing what he loved. There was an accident involving several others during a climb up a mountain and it was his life or four others. _

_I think it's safe to presume that you knew him well, if not intimately; you know how he is, and can probably guess what happened next. _

_He was a hero, Fuji-san, however much I hate it. I apologise for my bluntness, but I feel that you can understand me when I say that no title, no medal— _nothing_ will bring him back. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but there's something that tells me you knew him well, and you're important to him. _

_If you are, then I completely trust you, and hope that I can be of some help. _

_Yours Truly, _

_Atobe Keigo _

_12th June 2005 _

tbc.

I mean a man's kimono here, but that's just my preference, if you want to imagine Fuji wearing a female kimono, be my guest. XD is being obsessive

Can anyone give me a mountain's name to use? > 

I hide. Hopefully, people won't kill me for this. Ultimately, it's still TezuFuji, with Ryoma breaking it (or trying to)—but I shan't say anymore unless you wish to be spoiled. XP


End file.
